Angel's Guardian: A Contemporary Vampire Romance (2 page)

CHAP
TER 2

The lofty, domed ceiling was lost in shadows. The soft, warm light of torches did not reach those heights, but the golden light danced among the balconies, lending its fire to the stained glass windows, painting in relief the pale, marble columns. 

On the balconies,  figures leaned in casual pose over the carved railings. Bored, beautiful faces loomed impassively in the flickering light, some talking in low, susurrous tones, others listening in shared intimacy. The scene was one out of a canvas by Caravaggio, deep shadows and pale faces highlighted against the amber and reddish glow of firelight and candlelight.

“He does not want any of it, not the power, the wealth or the responsibility.  He has never made a secret of that. It is no crime to take what Maxim does not want. Father is a fool, clinging to old oaths and family loyalty. He has wasted decades waiting for the prodigal heir to return and assume his exalted place among us. The old man delays the inevitable.” Toma’s anger simmered just below the surface, barely controlled.

He swept his hand back over his thick, shoulder-length, black hair in a gesture of frustration. His intense, dark hazel eyes were fixed on the open floor below where the couples danced to the sounds of  pounding techno.

Vampires were creatures of such contradictions, he thought. They gyrated to the sounds of modern music under the light of torch and candle in an ancient, vaulted cathedral. Trapped between the new and the old, between light and dark, between good and evil, they vacillated between the past and an uncertain future.

“By our law, when the king dies, the crown passes to his first-born son. In the  situation where there is no son, it passes to the king's oldest brother. When Uncle Anton died, two of his three sons were already dead, but Maxim remained to inherit. The law is clear. Maxim is the rightful king. You can’t change that.”

“Maxim has refused to take his place as king. Our father has been forced to take on all the responsibility as steward without the title. If father died today, I would not inherit. Is that fair? Is that justice?”   

“Our father keeps to the traditions. They have served us well. They exist for many proven reasons,” argued his sister in low, emphatic tones. “You know I’m sympathetic to your cause, dear brother, but these are dangerous times for our people. Not the time for brazen actions.”

“Really?” The handsome, intense vampire turned his simmering gaze on the beautiful girl. “Is this not your self-interest talking? Do you expect me to believe that your dream to marry our dear cousin Maxim and become queen at his side is not your sole driving ambition? Surely, if it was possible to marry your own brother and crown him king, you’d be working to do just that.”

Ivanna had the shame to blush at her brother’s words. Fairly enough, the thought had occurred to her, if only for an instant. In antiquity, siblings were often married for the sake of maintaining power and bloodlines. It was a well- known fact that Cleopatra had married her brother. King Tut's wife was his sister and, upon his death, she'd been forced to marry their uncle.

“I will tell you a secret, dear sister. It will most likely not surprise you. To take my place as king, I will gladly break all the rules, dare all taboos.” He boldly gazed with daring, undisguised lust at his own flesh and blood, the message clear in his smoldering eyes. “A king makes his own laws, forges his own traditions. He’s not shackled by convention as is a steward. No one questions the king.”

Ivanna was known for her stunning beauty. She was tall and lithe, proud and aristocratic as a queen should be. Her ebony hair and green eyes were exotic against her alabaster skin. Tonight, her low-cut, fitted bodice held her generous breast tightly, their soft tops spilling over, beckoning the eye.  

Toma was beyond limits, his burning ambition fueling all his other passions. In his eyes, the woman beside him was not forbidden; she was a bridge to power. Of course, his father would think his thoughts abomination, but his father was a doddering old fool.

Ivanna was stunned to hear the idea put into words. She lowered her eyes in mock modesty, but uttered no protest. Her silence was in fact, an act of unspoken complicity. Still, a complicity that without the spoken word, could be denied. Cunning was Ivanna’s best hidden attribute. Her beauty was her best weapon, but it was one out there for all to see. She used both to devastating effect.

“Brother,” she crooned, her eyelashes lowered seductively. “You never fail to amaze me.” She reached out to touch his jawline tenderly, her fingers tracing it in sensual caress. “Your strength, vision, and daring are truly kingly attributes. No one is more deserving or better suited to take what our cousin so brazenly disdains. Still, Maxim may change his mind. A man may say he does not want power only to balk and rave when he no longer has it.”

“Yes, you make a very good point, my dear. In the long term, there is one only acceptable solution to the problem. Our beloved cousin must die.”

“You’re walking a dangerous path,” she answered, concern etched on her lovely face. “Father will have you executed should you spill family blood. He has overlooked and forgiven many of our transgressions and petty crimes, but that one act, he will not bear. Do not mistake our father. You may think him an old fool, but his core is strong, his honor unyielding.”

Toma took her hand and brought it to his lips where he placed a lingering kiss over the pulse at her wrist. “Thank you for your concern, love. Any ideas you have that may help us reach our goals, I will be eager to hear and consider. If there is one thing I admire almost as much as your bewitching beauty, it is your cunning. Come to me before dawn. In my quarters, alone, we may speak at length and make plans to suit us both.” His eyes burned in wanton invitation.

Toma skirted his way around the perimeter of the dance floor. All around him, moving in the yellow-orange light and the shadows, young vampires danced in wild abandon to the thrumming beat of the music. Some danced alone, most danced in twos and threes. Some couples were not moving but embraced each other, lost in the bliss of the blood kiss.

The blood kiss was the mutual sharing of blood between vampires. It was usually prompted by a degree of romantic involvement, creating a bond between the two individuals sharing it. 

It had an effect similar to the high produced by opium in humans, a feeling of warmth and euphoria that enveloped and held you like a silk cocoon. In a blood kiss, time stopped, and your pleasure centers fired endlessly sweet and addicting. During sex, the blood kiss was devastatingly pleasurable. It was the firing mechanism that set off the male's climax. Soon, Ivanna would know his blood kiss. He would take the queen that Maxim should have had, and then, he would take the throne also.

CHAPTER
3

Through the haze of pain and confusion, the woman struggled to open her eyes. Every part of her body thrummed with pain, especially her pelvic region, her head, and her hands. She tried to move, but the effort drained her, and she gave up. She concentrated on breathing, taking in air as deeply as possible,  exhaling her pain as she'd done while giving birth. 

Where am I?  I’m in such pain,  I can't be dead
.  She bent her efforts upon her memory, and then she remembered the children.
Oh, my God!
She opened her mouth and, with all the terror and desperation only a mother can muster, she screamed her agony to the universe.

******

At once, a virtual feast of crying and screaming tore the peaceful silence of his private domain. He leaped over the railing and landed on the floor like a cat, where not long ago he’d left the unconscious female on a pallet. Her babes were on a bare mattress at the far corner.

On arrival at his home, he had struggled with the problem of where to put them. There were rooms upstairs, but no one ever occupied them. He refused to place filthy, stinking strangers in his private rooms. Besides, he expected the woman to die at any moment. He would then drop the children off at a church or fire station. It would be a short stay for his visitors.

He opted to make a pallet for the dying female. Anything he laid her on would  have to be discarded afterward. He would wrap her carcass in it when she died and get rid of it all. For the children, he pulled an old mattress he kept in the basement. He brought up old sheets, blankets, and drapes from boxes that were left when the previous owner died. He refused to use his own, expensive, precious things.

As soon as he settled them down, the older child stuck an almost empty bottle in the babe's mouth. The infant smelled of stale urine, and it wailed pitifully. The vampire was relieved when they quickly fell asleep. The little girl was probably exhausted. The woman remained unconscious.

But now, they were all screaming! He wanted to run, to get away from the impossible situation, but the sun was almost up. He was trapped in this madness.

“Shut up,” he roared. “Shut up or I’ll kill you all.” He turned in a slow circle, hissing like a cornered animal, his eyes burning with fury, his face suffused with color. He must make sure these creatures at least feared, if not understood, his command. He turned to the female who was now struggling to sit up, her eyes wild and feverish.

“Why are you screaming, woman?”

She stared at him in terror, mouth open, breaths coming in short, gasping puffs. Then her eyes moved to the far corner where her babes were, and she turned on her side and tried to crawl across the floor to them.

“Stop!” he commanded.  He bounded over to the children, his look angry and threatening. The little girl grabbed the baby protectively and held him close, tears running down her face. He picked them up and deposited them at their mother’s side. Her face a study in pain, the woman struggled to gather her children, at once taking the baby to her bruised breast. The babe pulled hungrily, immediately quieting. The girl clung to her mother, little hands and body seeking her warmth and security.

He went to the mattress the children had occupied and sat with his back against the wall, watching the little group with angry, resentful eyes. Why did he bring them to his home? He should have left them where he found them, to survive or die as all things do in life.

It is the law of nature that you survive if you’re strong enough or die if you’re not. Helping the weak survive only prolongs the inevitable and weakens the species. Only the strongest are worthy of life and passing on that strength to their offspring, he reminded himself sullenly.

Now, they were here in his home, obstacles to his solitude, needy, dependent, a threat to his security, a drain on his resources. Worse yet, they were temptation to his hunger. This was the worst decision he’d ever made. He pulled nervously on his long, ragged beard, his dark, accusing eyes darting to the pitiful group.

Another thought occurred to him. Had the woman seen him drink? Did she know what he was? If she did, he would have to deal with that. What temporary insanity had caused him to drag this needy trio into his haven? He obviously had not been thinking. He should have deposited the children in front of a church or a hospital and left the mother to die on her own.

He should have broken her neck, poor thing, and put her out of her misery the way you do a dying animal. Now she could linger in pain for hours. But no, he'd allowed his painful memories and misplaced sentimentality to affect his decision making. He glared furiously at the huddled, unwanted guests, wishing them gone.

******

She held her children and watched the angry beast as it watched her. He was terrifying, indeed. His dark blond, long, unkempt hair fell wild, tangling with the ragged, matted beard. His eyes were shadowed by the hair he made no attempt to tame, and she could not tell their color, but they were dark. His nose seemed long and thin. His skin was pale, almost translucent. 

He was huge, way over six feet tall. His body was wide and hulking, like one of those wrestlers she’d seen on TV. He was dressed in black cammo pants and black t-shirt. He had worn a long, black trench coat over those, but the coat now hung over the second floor's banister. He sat on the mattress, his back against the wall, and he watched them, glaring but making no move towards her. That was a good sign.

The children must be starving, she worried. She had little to give them. The baby was at her breast, but she was not producing enough. There might be one last bottle of formula in the baby's bag, but she was not sure. If they had not lost the bag, there were also candy bars and cheese sticks in it that Nina could have. The woman scanned around for the bag and saw it by the mattress. Nina had held on to it, smart girl that she was.

“Please, please,” she managed to call out to the beast, her voice trembling and rough in her sore, bruised throat. He stared at her but did not respond. “Please,” she tried again, “I need the bag.” The creature looked at her as if he didn’t understand. “In the baby's bag, there are candy bars.” She pointed to the bag lying near him.

Finally, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and scanned around to locate the bag, blue with little yellow Teddy bears all over it. He picked it up, opened the zipper, turned it over, and spilled all its contents on the floor. Then he went back to his corner.

The young mother considered the situation. If he’d wanted to hurt her and the children, he could have done it hours ago. “Nina, baby, get the candy bars. Do it carefully. Don’t get too close to him.”

The little girl stood up and walked over to stand in front of the silent, sullen creature. She stood gazing at him for a few moments with her serious, curious eyes before bending to gather a few candy bars. Without fear, she stretched out her hand to offer one to the vampire. He looked at the child for a moment, realizing her intent and shook his head in refusal.

They huddled together, mother and babes. “Nina, your brother needs changing, but I’m too weak and in too much pain. Can you try, baby? You’ve helped before.”

“Yes, Mommy. I can do it.” The little girl got up and went back to the things that were spilled on the floor. She got a diaper and a box of wet wipes and brought them back to her mother.

“Get the cream too, sweetheart.”

The vampire watched as between the mother and child, they managed to strip the babe and get a diaper on him. By the time they finished, the woman was sweating profusely, and his nose twitched as he smelled blood flowing fresh from somewhere on her body. She did not look well. She should be dead.  

That would solve the problem, he repeated to himself. He would dispose of the body in the river and dump the children somewhere. He would have his peace and tranquility back. He just needed to sit back and wait for her to die. It was just a matter of time, a few hours at most, he thought contentedly.

Little Nina cuddled up as close as possible to her mother, laying her head in the crook of her mom’s neck. The baby slept on his tummy on top of the woman, his little round butt sticking up. The young mother closed her eyes and fell asleep, but every so often, a small whimper of pain would escape her lips, and her body would shudder.

The vampire did not sleep. The windows and doors were secure. Heavy drapes lined with thermal foam covered all windows. He was well fed and would not need blood for days. He would sleep later, when his problem was solved. He watched the little family before him. They reminded him of another family; one he had not thought about in a long time.

His mother had not been dark haired like this one. Her hair was flaxen blonde, and her eyes were the clearest blue. She had three children, but they were all boys. He'd not thought of her in years. Why not? She had been a loving mother living through trials and tribulations she did not deserve. Like this one, she'd refused to give up. Unlike this one, she'd survived and thrived.

He remembered her feeding the little one from one white, smooth breast. He could still see the mist forming over her breast as the little one suckled and exhaled into the cold air of the carriage, his tiny fingers curling around those of his older brother, who watched in fascination.

He remembered hiding during the day, traveling at night, and always depending on the kindness and charity of strangers they met along the road. Tatiana lived a long time. She lived to see her sons as grown men, to see the old ways change, and the new regime come in to sweep the old order away.  That was so long ago, when his vampire heart still knew how to love and how to live with others.